


Untitled: And Dream of Sheep

by acertaindefenseattorney



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Depression, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acertaindefenseattorney/pseuds/acertaindefenseattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a prompt which gives me wonderful, glorious stretching space for one of my most abiding headcanons.</p><p>'I'd like an Ace Attorney character suffering from a diagnosed mental illness. My one request is that, if you choose major depressive disorder, that it is not mainly characterized by sadness (because I think this depiction is so prevalent that sometime we forget about the depressed people who aren't outwardly sad).</p><p>How did they become diagnosed? When did it begin affecting them? How do they control it (or not)? Does anyone know? Is anyone in their family affected? Just show me someone coping or not coping.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled: And Dream of Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Opening chapter, here; we're just dipping our toes in. And I'm trying to get to grips with writing Apollo, something I find damned near impossible. Forgive me.
> 
> EDIT: three years later, this ... definitely isn't going to be continued. You'll have to read it as a one-shot, I'm afraid.

‘I’ve noticed something.’ says Apollo, and Phoenix says:  
  
‘Sounds dangerous,’ and doesn’t look up from his notebook. What is it this time? Something about the way Mr. Edgeworth’s thumb and index finger press together when he talks about home, Klavier Gavin smiles widest when he’s faking it.   
  
But he doesn’t go on. He sits down on the other side of the office and watches him over the top of his paperwork. It’s weird and off-putting, and in the end Phoenix gives up, stands up, and, in the tiny kitchen, announces  **PANCAKES!**  With his arms outstretched, as if to call pancakes down from on high, as if he were himself the God of breakfast food.  
  
*  
  
‘You’re not happy.’ says Apollo. They’re washing up, at the tiny kitchen’s tiny sink. Apollo drying dishes, Phoenix handing him fresh.  
  
‘I’m always happy, kiddo.’ From Trucy’s room, the muted rumble of a Gavinners Top 40 hit. Apollo looks at him. He smirks. ‘I’m not always happy. That would be weird. I’m happy right now.’ He says, gives him the biggest, corniest, beamingest smile imaginable. ‘See? Honest. Pinky swear.’   
  
‘You’re lying,’ says Apollo, and he rolls his eyes, flicks a sud at his face:   
  
‘You think maybe you’re overworking that thing, huh? I don’t know that it was meant for everyday social interaction.’  
  
*  
  
‘Still lying.’ says Apollo. In the bathroom, at the Wonder Bar, punctuated by a cheer from the audience. Which is a new low. Phoenix turns around and looks at him for a second, hands still beneath the cold faucet, really hoping the look on his face conveys how done with this he is. Then, emotional range isn’t his strong point, lately. Apparently.  
  
‘Kid,’ he says, drying his hands. ‘I really – not that I don’t appreciate your concern. It’s touching. But if we really, really have to do this, would it be, maybe, too much to ask that we possibly, on the off chance that we could, have this discussion all in one go? Instead of this ...  _weird_  – one question ambush thing you have going right now.’  
  
‘That wasn’t a question.’  
  
‘One statement ambush. Like I say, I appreciate –’  
  
Apollo cuts him off: ‘Besides. Have you tried keeping you in one place for more than a few minutes?’   
  
Phoenix pauses, draws his shoulders back in the mirror. Fine. Contradiction established. Sighs.  
  
‘Fair point, kiddo.  
  
‘But honestly. Honestly, please,’ personal space is not a strong point in his middle age, and Phoenix cups both of Apollo’s cheeks in his damp hands, ‘please. I really am – fine. I don’t know what’s going on in that,’ inappropriate employer-to-employee forehead kiss, ‘enormous head of yours, or what you think you’re picking up with those super powered eyes --- ok? But I’m fine. I promise.’  
  
  
As he makes for the door, Apollo says, ‘your hands are shaking.’ Phoenix stops, with his hand on the handle. He’s right. They are. He laughs low in his throat, shakes his head, swings it open.  
  
‘My hands are  _cold_.’


End file.
